Sunday, 4 March 2007

Mosquito Loves You by Mike McCulley

When your one true love moves
across town to touch the hot singles,
changes their phone, sends for their clothes,
and you can't remember the last time

you had any serious loving in the sultry evening
when the sun goes down, remember,
the mosquito loves you.
When you come back from a hike

through a backwater marsh, reeking sweat
in your shirt, sticks in your hair,
pants stinking of fermenting leach,
boots full of sucking mud,

one thing to keep in mind,
mosquito still loves you.
After a day at your gut sucking job,
when retirement's in sight and you're looking

ahead to time alone when
the only calls are from
the come-on lady who gets paid
two-nineteen an hour to sell cable

upgrades, phone sex, and vinyl siding,
you can count on, and don't forget,
mosquito still loves you.
At winter camp when the ground is frozen

two feet down, snow blows in
from a mile off, clouds never
blow out, remember, mosquito
is waiting for spring.

Mike McCulley, Montesana, WA, USA


Crafty Green Poet said...

I can so relate to this, the constant mosquitoes in Malawi when I lived there, or the midges here in Scotland. And we're all waiting for spring at the minute, though it seems very close just now....

Anonymous said...

This is fantastic! It transmits loneliness so well.

Anonymous said...

What I sense from this poem, is that your blood is worth something to the mosquito. Even though others have already sucked you dry.

Loved this poem.

Sandy said...

This is such a good poem. I couldn't help but grin in some parts, very enjoyable.